


A Place All Our Own

by CantSpeakFae



Series: The Wretched And Divine [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Pocket Sized Disaster Children, Ripper's Gang but as nine-year-olds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: Five times that Ethan Rayne thinks he's losing control of his club and one time that he realizes that he was gaining friends.





	A Place All Our Own

1. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! I now call this meeting of the we-don’t-have-a-name-yet club to order!”

Ethan Rayne’s warbling voice carried in the silence that was otherwise settled over the park, followed by the echoing clack-clack-clack of two rocks being hit together, in lieu of a real gavel, and he straightened his spine as six pairs of eyes stared, expectantly, back at him.

The bully hadn’t yet come back to the park, but they had. And while there were no other enemies to throw balloons at, there were some things that bonded friends for life - things that made it impossible to not spend time together. And being bonded by attacks from a teenager just happened to be one of those things.

“Our first order of business,” he continued, speaking with his chest puffed out to command the attention of his friends. “Is to pick a name so I can quit calling it the we-don’t-have-a-name-yet club.”

Randall raised his hand. He was in the middle of the rain-soddened bench that they’d all settled down onto while Ethan took charge, sandwiched between Alice and Rupert. Ethan pointed his rock-gavel at him.

“Why do we need a name?”

“...All clubs have names. No more questions, suggestions only.”

Phil’s hand went up next. “What about: “The Brotherhood”?”

“Some of us are sisters,” Dee muttered.

"The Monster Legionnaires?” Rupert suggested.

Ethan shook his head. “I can’t say that last word. Please don’t use hard words.”

“The Devil’s Badgers?” offered Thomas.

“Badgers are not scary.”

“The nine-year-olds?” Alice called out, earning a glare from everyone.

“That only works until one of us turns ten.”

“And you’re not even in the club!”

“Wait, what do you mean Alice isn’t in? She has to be in, or I’m not in!”

“Fine, Randall’s not in either.”

“Ethan…”

“How come _he_ gets to decide who’s in and who’s not? No one made him the leader!”

Ethan’s hand twitched like he might throw the rock at Dee for pointing that out, but he refrained. Murmurs of agreement were already being shared among them and he was losing the interest of the crowd, fast.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be the leader?” Ethan asked, scowling. “I’m the smartest.”

“Nuh-uh! You couldn’t even say leegonair.”

“Legionnaires.” Rupert corrected Philip, helpfully.

“If Rupert’s the smartest, he should be the leader.”

_(A chorus of agreements and Ethan’s reign is over before it’s even begun. Woe to the republic.)_

 

* * *

 

2.

It’s blustery and grey the next time they meet. Their club still doesn’t have a name - no matter how hard he tries, Ethan just can’t make “The Chaos Kings” stick - but now, worse than that, their club may no longer have a place to meet. It’s always cold in London, but it’s going to get even colder now that Autumn is there, and there have been murmurs from the children whose parents (or sisters) still care if they’re out in the rain.

“I don’t know if we can meet at the park anymore.” Alice, who had been invited on as an unofficial member of the club, despite Ethan’s reluctance to let a _teenager_ supervise them, said with a gentle squeeze of Randall’s shoulder. “It’s going to be winter soon and you guys are going to get sick being out here all the time.”

Everyone’s disappointed. But Ethan steps up to the plate, immediately, determined not to let this slip away.

“We’ll just have to find a new place to meet.” He says, loudly, to draw everyone’s attention back onto him. “We could...could uh…”

His mind draws a blank. Part of him wants to offer up his Aunt Tilda’s home, knowing that the old bat wouldn’t mind having a house full of children - that she’d probably be asleep or knitting and let them do whatever they wanted, but another part of him recoiled at the idea of any of them seeing where he lived and what he did all day when he wasn’t there. Which was to say, nothing.

It’s not silent for long. Thomas speaks up before Ethan can make up his mind one way or another.

“I heard a story about an old storage shed in the park.” He said, speaking so fast that he nearly tripped over the words. “If we found it, I bet we could turn it into a clubhouse! No one uses it, anymore.”

“Uh, I don’t know if -” Alice started to say, but she was interrupted by a chorus of cheering at the idea.

From everyone except Ethan who would have normally liked the idea of a clubhouse for them… if it had been _his_ idea.

_(They do find the old storage shed, mostly intact, and Ethan hates Thomas for a little bit after that.)_

 

* * *

 

3.

The storage shed - their clubhouse - is a mess.

It hasn’t been used in years. Not since the upkeep of the park was no longer done by a private groundskeeper. It’s a small space, no larger than a small loft space, and there are a lot of old tools left behind. Shovels, weed killing spray, buckets of paint and hedge trimmers. Plants are overgrown on the outside and there are lots of bugs inside. But it's _theirs_ and Ethan thinks he likes it.

Or, at least, he thinks he will like it.

He’s the only one, though.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Thomas said, nudging a shovel with the toe of his shoe and disturbing the spider that had been hiding behind it.

Dee shrieked and jumped behind Philip, her dark hair whipping around her face.

“Oh, I hate it! I hate it here!” She wailed, shoving Phil closer to the spider like it might eat him instead of her.

Once again, Ethan tried to step forward. Tried to take charge and be seen.

“It’s not so bad.” He said, looking around. It’s cluttered and smells of wet, rotting wood but it has potential. “We could fix it. Get rid of the tools and bugs...maybe get a couch.”

“Do that all ourselves?” Thomas asked, doubtfully.

“Ethan, that’s a… lot of work. I don’t think you realize just how much -” Alice started to say, ever the gentle voice of reason, but Philip piped up before she could rain completely on their parade.

“My brothers could help!” He said, excitedly. “I have three big brothers! Mikey is a builder, Nathan is an electrician, and John probably has an old couch!”

Ethan’s right-eye twitches at the titters of excitement, his upper lip curling back over his teeth as Philip swoops in to save the day. Him and his promise of help from his _brothers_ bring real life to plan and they’re all looking at the clubhouse the same way that Ethan was, now, delighted by the idea that they could make it livable. Even Alice looks impressed.

And no one thanks Ethan for the idea.

There’s a sour taste on his tongue and he thinks he won’t come back tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

4.

Ethan does go back.

He goes because the only other option is to stay home with Aunt ‘Tilda and she only ever wants to have tea or make him read. She doesn’t know how to deal with a rambunctious, energized child and Ethan is restless and bored.

So, he goes back.

Philip made good on his promises. All three of his brothers show up to help them fix up their clubhouse. They clear away the clutter, they fix the door on its hinges, strengthen the roof, add new glass to the broken window, sweep the floor, kill the bugs, and even manage to fix the lights and add a little space heater to keep the kids warm.

John did have an old couch, a few chairs, a rug, and even a mini-fridge to keep snacks in. (Philip says John just got married and married people have to get rid of their old stuff to have new stuff together.) And the whole place looks livable in just a week. Philip’s brothers are sworn to secrecy and then sent away, living the club of nine-year-olds to admire their new, secret place.

“It’s missing something,” Ethan says, one afternoon after they’ve all jumped on the couch, peered out the window, climbed over the chair, and rolled across the clean floor. “Something to make it ours.”

“Something more than the furniture?” Alice asked, from the chair she’d curled up in.

“Yes.”

A note of impatience crept into his tone.

“It’s our clubhouse. It has to be about us.”

“We could make a sign,” Rupert suggested. “And hang it on the door.”

“It rains too much,” Deirdre said. “We should make a banner. We could hang it inside.”

“I can bring paper!”

“I can bring markers!”

Another idea stolen; another idea wasted and credit given to someone else.

Ethan doesn’t say anything else to anyone, and he’s the first to leave when it starts to get dark.

_(He starts to wonder if he's really part of this club... or if he's just being tolerated.)_

 

* * *

5. 

Their banner shines with the scribbles of glitter-pens and the air is heavy with the fruity scents of the markers. Alice, with her neater handwriting and careful stencils, settled down against the floor on her stomach and waited for their instructions to complete it. Everyone had signed their names, but there was still a long, blank space across the center of the banner; a club waiting for a name.

A name they could have already had if they’d listened to Ethan in the first place.

They’re all shouting out suggestions. Everyone but Ethan.

And they’d all signed their names in colour. Everyone but Ethan. He’d scrawled his name in black. He’s staring at it, now, and his throat feels tight.

Rupert suggests “The Wretched” because it’s a new word he learned in a book and it sounds cool and Alice, who thinks that it’s a little too edgy for a group of nine-year-olds, neatly adds “and divine” at the end.

They hang the banner up and it looks nice. Colourful and bright.

All except Ethan’s name, because he wrote his in black.

He stares at it until his stomach hurts, and then he goes home. The first to leave, again.

  
( _He doesn’t think that any of them are going to care when he doesn’t come back.)_

 

* * *

 

6.

They do care. 

But Ethan doesn't know that until three days have passed. Three loathsome, lonely days where he has no one to talk to but Aunt 'Tilda. And he'd been expecting more of the same on day four, so he was surprised when the doorbell rang and 'Tilda raspy voice called him down from ~~the guest room~~  his bedroom and he shuffles down the stairs with heavy feet and a handful of firecrackers, expecting to see that his aunt has invited in another door-to-door salesman in for tea that he'll have to chase off before he can try and scam money out of his batty old aunt. 

It's not a salesman, though. It's six familiar faces, peering at him from his front porch. And Ethan's eyes grow so wide he thinks they may take up his entire face.

"What are you  _doing_ here?" He hissed, pushing past his aunt and turning bright red when she clumsily patted the top of his head before bustling off with the promise of snacks. 

"We thought you were sick," Rupert said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He held something out - a little, folded piece of paper. "So we made you a card and wanted to bring it over."

Ethan reached out, hesitantly, as though he was afraid that it was going to bite him. It's a handmade card with crude drawings inside and little notes wishing him well. All of them signed it. Ethan's hand falls back to his side after he's looked it over, clutching the card tightly. 

"...Thanks." He said, not bothering to tell them that he wasn't sick. He's sure his aunt already did. 

"You're welcome," Rupert said, his cheeks a little red. "We missed having you around. It's not the same without you." 

"It's not?" 

"Of course not." Philip said, shaking his head. "You have all the good ideas." 

"Like having a leader!" 

"And a club name."

"And a clubhouse." 

"And the banner!"

"Ethan," Aunt Tilda called, coming back 'round the corner with a tray of sandwiches. "Don't just stand there with the door open! Invite your friends in!" 

"...Do you wanna come in?" Ethan asked.

His throat felt tight, again, but not in the way that made it hurt, before. Friends. He had friends, didn't he?

"Yes, please. It's really cold out here." Alice said, ushering everyone inside. "Plus, we're starving. No one accounted for snacks, today." 

"We should fill the fridge with more than juice boxes, then," Ethan said. "Like, jarred things so they don't go bad fast."

"See? Idea guy!" Philip said as they all clambered through the door. "This is why you're our vice president." 

"I am?" 

"Yeah, but don't let that power go to your head." 

( _Too late.)_


End file.
